Then Harry, the next, climbs the knee to engage
His father’s attention again;
But Bob, springing forward almost in a rage,
Resolves his own rights to maintain.
Oh, ye vot’ries of pleasure and folly’s sad crew,
From your midnight carousals depart!
Look here for true joys, ever blooming and new,
When I press both these boys to my heart.
Poor grimalkin purs softly—the tea-kettle sings,
Midst glad faces and innocent hearts,
Encircling my table as happy as kings,
Right merrily playing their parts.
And Bill (the sly rogue) takes a lump, when he’s able,
Of sugar, so temptingly sweet,
And, archly observing, hides under the table
The spoil, till he’s ready to eat.
While George, the big boy, talks of terrible “sums”
He perform’d so correctly at school;
Bill leeringly tells, with his chin on his thumbs,
“He was whipt there for playing the fool!”
This raises a strife, till in choleric mood
Each ventures a threat to his brother,
But their hearts are so good, let a stranger intrude,
They’d fight to the last for each other.
There Nan, the sweet girl, she that fags for the whole,
And keeps the young urchins in order,
Exhibits, with innocence charming the soul,
Her sister’s fine sampler and border.
Kitty sings to me gaily, then chatting apace
Helps her mother to darn or to stitch,
Reminding me most of that gay laughing face
Which once did my fond heart bewitch.
While she! the dear partner of all my delight,
Contrives them some innocent play;
Till, tired of all, in the silence of night,
They dream the glad moments away.
Oh, long may such fire-side scenes be my lot!
Ye children, be virtuous and true!
And think when I’m aged, alone in my cot,
How I minister’d comfort to you.